


Breathing

by ObsidianCoffe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Near Death, because i wanna see the shimada bros working out their issues, i need to stop posting things at 2am, this fic has killed me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianCoffe/pseuds/ObsidianCoffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genji finds out about the attack a little too late. Zenyatta is already in pieces, and against everything, his pupil has to keep calm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I wrote angst.

Inhale.

The bullets reflected with his short blade.

Exhale.

The man dodged the rebound. Withdrew a sword and lunged at him.

Inhale.

He wielded his katana. Ran. Avoided the blade. Attacked.

Exhale.

The assassin fell down, defeated.

Genji sheathed his sword. His sensors ran a quick analysis and found he had suffered no injuries, and a wave of pride ran through him at having showed such prowess. Of course, this wasn’t the first hit man sent his way. There was simply no surprising him.

He glanced down at his opponent, still breathing. With a nudge of his foot he forced him to turn over, maybe get some information before disposing of him.

“Who sent you?” The man kept wheezing, short on breath. He nudged him again, with a little more force. “I said: _who_ sent you?”

For a moment, it seemed like the assassin tried to talk, but the heaving on his chest made in unable to express any words. Genji kneeled, getting closer to listen. And in the ragged voice of his aggressor, he heard…

Inhale.

He was running.

He was running like he’d never done it in his life. The movement made his joints feel the heat of exertion, but his chest was cold, constricted as if a piece of ice had lodged itself in there. As if the metal of his body had suddenly turned alien to him.

Inhale.

He did not panic. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let despair get to him. He had to keep moving, he had to keep running, he _had to find him._

Inhale.

He jumped through the rooftops, glancing around the darkness in every back alley, every small street, in every nook and cranny he could without losing his rhythm. He had to…

Exhale.

He came to a halt in one of the corners near the edge of the town. Chest throbbing, he got down on his knees, at difficult task given how much they shake. As his hand, clumsy and trembling, lightly touched the piece of metal, he choked on his own breath.

Inhale.

Zenyatta. Zenyatta was lying on the ground, broken and abandoned, and there were scraps of metal everywhere and one of his arms was completely destroyed and his spine was twisted and his neck was _ripped open_ -

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

“M-Master…?” His voice was so small, a dam barely containing all the emotions building up, he had to do something…

“G-GeeE-enjIIi…?” it was a broken sound, the tarnished voice box fighting to make out words. “…Ii aAam sO Gl-aad yoU… yOU Areeee… rEe…”

“Shhh… Master please, please…” Zenyatta made a movement, like he was trying to lift the arm he had left, but it only managed to clatter pieces of metal that fell from it. “Please Master. Zenyatta, please don’t move. I’ll help you, let me.”

He moved his arms carefully, suppressing the trembling as best as he could, and tried to garther the remains of the omnic with utmost care, as if he was made of crystal. To his horror, more parts fell as he shifted his structure, and a wail escaped his lips as Zenyatta came apart a little bit more right in front of his eyes.

Inhale. Inhale.

“I-i-II neeEEed t-O tell… tEE-eell… y-yOuU s-soO-mtttHiInIg…” Zenyatta seemed adamant despite the effort that sentence had costed him, still trying to lift what was left of his limb.

He activated his communicator.

“Winston speaking. What is going on?”

“Ziegler.” _Inhale._

“What? Genji, what is…?”

“Ziegler, Dr. Ziegler. I need her help! GET ME DR. ZIEGLER NOW!” he started running again, torn between being delicate with the precious weight in his arms, and getting back to base as soon as possible.

“Okay, I’m contacting her. Get here as quickly as you can.”

“GeEEn-njIii…”

Inhale.

Don’t lose focus.

Please, Master Zenyatta please hold on.

He prayed under his breath, looking straight ahead in fear that if he glanced at him he would break down, loose his footing, make everything worst.

The scenery changed in a blur. He didn’t pay attention, his machinery guided him towards the base. He focused on his breathing, on straining his hearing as to not lose the soft sound of whirring in Zenyatta’s chest. He didn’t want to think about how it seemed quieter with every passing second, how the lights on his forehead seemed to dim.

Exhale.

They finally arrived.

Winston was waiting at the entrance, and behind him, Dr. Ziegler with a stretcher by her side and a worried frown gracing her features.

“Please…!” Was it exhaustion or desperation that had him out of breath? “Please, you have to-!”

“Lay him here.” Suddenly she was all business, anything but concentration gone from her face.

And for a moment he didn’t want to. He couldn’t let go of him, he couldn’t stand the thought of getting separated from Zenyatta. He had to shake his head to get rid of that idea. It didn’t matter what he wanted, there was one and only one priority now.

With all the care in the world, he deposited the body of his Master, of his _friend_ , on the stretcher, a broken protest from Zenyatta floating through the air as Winston rushed to get him inside. Angela was quick to follow him, before Genji stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Please, Mercy. _Please_ …” something in her eyes changed as she turned to face him. “Please, I beg of you, save him. You have to save him!” He had no words, no way of expressing everything he wanted to convey at the moment.

It seemed there was no need to. She was shocked for a moment, then the look on her eyes hardened and she gave him a curt nod before running inside to the medic ward.

There was nothing more holding him together ( _and wasn’t that the perfect phrasing for the situation_ ), so he fell to his knees, defeated. Lost. Desperate.

* * *

 

He didn’t know how he had ended up inside, propped up against one of the walls on the med ward, staring at nothing in particular. Somebody probably dragged him in. The silence was oppressing, not even interrupted by muffled noises from the OR. He knew, _he knew_ that the room was one of the most heavily secured in the whole facility, but it didn’t help the gripping anxiety that the uninterrupted silence meant that _there was nothing that could be done._

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Genji turned his head slightly, as if that minimal movement took an enormous amount of effort.

“Hey love… Are you… How are you holding up?”

Tracer. Tracer and a sad little smile, and a cup of something steaming, and her worried eyes. She crouched next to him and placed a hand on his shoulders. He flinched at the contact.

“Do you want anything?” The idea of anything close to him made him nauseous, made him think of the one thing he wanted right next to him, closer, so that he could protect him and never let something like this happen ever again.

“…How long?” It’s amazing how much it takes for him to speak. “How long has it been?”

“An hour or so. They said they had a long night ahead of ‘em.”

He nodded. Without conversation, his thoughts run rampant.

 _Inhale. Exhale._ Remember to keep track of your breathing, ground yourself with the rhythm. If you lose focus, do it again. Inhale, exhale.

_“The first thing you need to learn is to become aware of your breathing.”_

_Genji audibly snorted, looking up at the floating omnic. It was certainly one of the mildest responses he had given since becoming acquaintances. Silence stretched over._

_“Wait. You mean that?”_

_“Of course. It’s a vital part of meditation.”_

_“But I-… We are both machine.” He said, with just the smallest hint of self-disgust. “We do not need to breathe.”_

_“It does not matter. Breathing is not only a metabolic necessity, it is also an important aspect for clearing your mind. When you sit down and close your eyes, many things will pass through your mind: fleeting ideas, worries, intruding thoughts. The way to fight them is to focus your attention on your breathing. To consciously control your intake of air, with different tempos for inhalations and exhalations for different effects.”_

_“I thought meditation was thinking about nothing.” He felt a little silly saying it out loud, but back then he had never managed to grasp that aspect of his training. That thought alone brought back a wave of pain in his chest, many cheerful memories of the past that only led to the same anguishing end._

_“It’s happening again. You are reflecting on things that don’t take you anywhere and only keep you from healing.”_

_“Was I that obvious?” Maybe omnics were more perceptive than he had given them credit for. There was a lot he had to learn if he was to become a student of his, many prejudices to work through._

_“Your breathing harshened. Curious isn’t it? Considering you don’t have a need for it…”_

It wasn’t helping. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t fight the memories, the images dancing in his mind of all the years he traveled with Zenyatta, all the things he learned, all the places they visited, all the comforting words he had graced him with.

And he found he didn’t want to. These thoughts, they were facts, securities of the past, and he didn’t want to face the uncertainties of the present. He rested his forehead on his knee. Death had become indisputable in his life, so there was no stubborn denial of Master’s death, no voice in his head that refused to accept it as a possibility.

Zenyatta could die tonight.

And Genji didn’t know what he would do if he lost him. Couldn’t imagine life continuing like before without his presence, couldn’t picture himself traveling, working in Overwatch again without his Master, his friend, his- _his…_

The artificial muscles in his throat tried to swallow the lump, he felt his hands clench and his abdomen tremble. Something started coursing through his body, from his chest to his limbs. No, no he wasn’t ready to deal with this, not right now, not with Zenyatta’s life hanging from a thread mere meters away from him. He couldn’t bring himself to name the feeling that had been haunting him for so long, something so precious, so marvelous it was hard to believe he could feel it.

Inhale.

Short breaths.

Exhale.

Release the air in twice the time you drew it in.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

_Exhale._

Time passed. He only had a vague idea of it thanks to the systems installed in him. Eventually Tracer left, and not long after McCree took her place sitting on a container box in front of him. Genji didn’t change his position, one of the benefits of his body was the lack of soreness and need for adjustment.

Eventually McCree left as well, and Mei came by. People paraded, taking turns to keep watch apparently. Some attempted small talk, about whatever innocuous happening they could think of. And he appreciated the effort, _he did,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to respond.

He just kept breathing.

* * *

 

Hours later, Reinhardt finally rouse from his seat, mumbling something about sleep, before clamping his hand on Genji’s shoulder, surprisingly soft for what was usual for the giant, and retired without another word.

Inhale.

The eerie silence returned just like before, as if the hours hadn’t passed. He wondered just how much longer, how much would he had to wait to… Maybe he should take a walk around, get up, move his muscles, _stop looking like a corpse_ -

“You lost rhythm of your breathing.” Genji’s head snapped up to his right, observing the dark corridor he hadn’t even bothered to look at when he came in. His mother language. “Try to dominate it again, there is no use in getting distraught now.”

“…” he got up, both legs shaking but not from sitting for too long, because that’s not how his body worked. “Hanzo?” Everybody had come by earlier, even Zarya and Tobjörn, all but one exception that had merely registered in his brain as a fact to be reflected upon later. “How long have you been there?”

His brother didn’t answer. Of course he knew about breathing techniques, he had learned his lessons when he was young, despite never taking up on meditation. Hanzo rouse from his place on the floor, hidden behind cargo boxes, and closed the distance between them. His walk was hesitant and the hand he raised tentatively to his shoulder even trembled a bit, but his never strayed away from his visor, his breathing even despite it all.

Genji’s entire body started to shiver underneath the contact, and he choked on air as sobs wrecked through his chest.

“Don’t-.”

“It’s my fault.” He didn’t shed tears, but he could almost _feel_ them rolling down the face behind the mask.

“Genji, don’t do this to yourself.”

“They were after me… They were looking for me, and he came across them-,” he gasped and turned his head, unable to keep eye contact. “H-he fought them, but they were too many… And I took them all out but, but if I had- If I had done it before…” Hanzo was shushing him, trying to calm him down “It’s because of me! He was trying to protect ME! And I- and now…”

“Genji-…”

“Let me go!” he screamed, struggling against the firm grasp his brother had him in. “IT’S MY FAULT! I should’ve protected him! I’m the one supposed to… I-i… I don’t know how…” he dropped to his knees. _Forgive me Zenyatta, I’ve failed…_

“GENJI!” his voice was like a thunderstorm, his hands vices on his shoulders. “Look at me. Haven’t you learned anything from him?!” he got on his knees too, on his same level, evening his breaths “You should always honor his teachings, even in your darkest hour.”

Genji stared at him, stared at his eyes and everything in them, all the pain and hurt, all the emotions confined in eyes that still held familiarity to his own. And everything broke down. He crushed his brother in a hug, and felt hesitation turned into assurance as he returned it.

* * *

 

As dawn was breaking, the doors to the OR finally opened. He had calmed down, and Hanzo was still by his side, stubbornly denying his need for rest. At the sound, he jumped to his feet, barely holding himself back before grasping at Mercy and begging for answers.

She looked solemn despite her messy hair, the bags under her eyes and the tiredness in her shoulders.

“We’ve fixed or replaced every part of his hardware. His body should be functioning perfectly, minus some twitches here and there for a few weeks as he recovers.”  Her eyes closed and she licked her lips “However, there is…” she took a deep breath and looked straight at him. “We have no way of knowing how or if his… _software_ ” she grimaced at this “was compromised in any way. The only thing we have left is wait for him to wake up.” She looked apologetic as she talked, wriggling her hands nervously.

Genji swallowed and nodded. He turned to his brother, an unspoken agreement between the two of them. Hanzo gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and turned to leave. Genji went for the door to Zenyatta’s room, before Mercy stopped him.

“Genji, wait! Let me-” she stalled, lost without words, before inhaling. “When… When we were reconstructing you… During surgery, t-there was a failure with the anesthetic. You woke up then, in the middle of it, and started thrashing about. We were desperately trying to get you sedated, and just before we were able to… You grabbed my hand.” She exhaled, looking at the wall in an attempt to ground herself. “You grabbed my hand and stared right into my eyes, and with a voice that was terrifyingly sober, you told me ‘ _Please, let me die’._ "

He just stood there frozen in shock, unable to think of anything to say.

“For the longest time I reflected on it. Had it been wrong of us to keep you alive? Had it been wrong of me? It’s not a rare thought in my trade.” Her voice faltered, tears clogging her throat.  He let his gaze linger on her, admiring her strength and humanity. She sighed, trying to swallow her sorrow. “What I’m trying to say is… I’m really happy that you’ve met him, I’m happy that he’s helped you to heal, to be… complete, again.”

She held her head down, gasping softly. One of his hands held her chin up.

“Thank you, Angela.” His voice was low, but no less sincere. “Thank you… for everything you’ve done.” He wanted to show his gratitude properly, and one day he would. She answered with a watery smile. He did too, even though she couldn’t see it. “You should get some rest.”

She left, light steps resounding down the corridor, and he braced himself before the door.

Inhale.

Exhale.

* * *

 

Zenyatta had always been small, when compared to other omnics. He had far less outer castings, his thin arms and the delicate arrangements of wires on his neck completely unprotected. It made him look more approachable. But now, he looked terrifyingly fragile in the expanse of his hospital bed. There was a long white cord inserted in the node of his chest and little extensions connected to the back of his head, all of them coming from a machine on his left side. Some of the parts were clearly new, shiny and unscratched.

Bitterly, he couldn’t wipe off his mind the images of many, many omnics they had encountered during their travels. Beaten, burned, stripped off of all the parts that could be sold, or simply abandoned; the memories overlapped with the sight of his Master on his bed. He would always pause whenever they found a corpse and kneel next to them, chanting a prayer to ask for a safe trip for their soul into the Iris. He would do that for humans too.

After so many times, Genji knew the prayer.

Inhale.

Could he…? Given the worst case scenario, could he be the one to pray for the soul of Zenyatta to abandon this world? He felt sick just thinking about it, like he wanted to vomit out all of his guts. It wasn’t right. _It wasn’t supposed to be like this._

Inhale. Inhale.

Zenyatta was alive. His body was working correctly, the lights on his forehead were dimmed, but they were on.

Exhale.

But, what if…? What if there was something irremediably destroyed inside. What if his memories were damaged, or his capacity for thought had been compromised… What if his _mind_ was broken?

Would it be better… to let him go?

No. No, no, no, no… No! He had to push those thoughts aside. They weren’t real, they weren’t helping. It was useless. He had to focus. He had to keep calm, he had to…

_Breathe._

_Breathe goddammit._

Inhale. Inhale.

Exhale.

Exhale.

It was useless. He couldn’t calm down. He didn’t want to. Having Zenyatta awake was what he needed, hearing him talk, watching him meditate and marvel at all the beautiful things the world had to offer. He wanted to promise him that he would never have to suffer like this again, that he would protect him with his life, always strive to make him happy and provide whatever he desired… He wished to offer himself, if he would have him.

Zenyatta’s hand, the one he had not lost, was grasped delicately in his before he realized it. Genji took off his mask, and with a shaking pulse, brought their joined hands to his lips. He whispered a prayer against it, not for his soul, but for the return of Zenyatta to this world.

_Please, please don’t leave me…_

Inhale.

“Genji…?”

The air paralyzed in his chest. Incredulous eyes snapped to his Master’s face in time to see the lights on his forehead shine brightly with consciousness.

He drew in a shuddering breath.

“Z-Zenyatta…?” he wanted to say more, to speak all of his thoughts, but his voice faltered. It was so much better to listen to him talk anyways.

“Genji. I am so happy to see you.” He hummed as the hand curled against the flesh of his cheek. His voice was unwavering and held no distortion, fortunately.

For the first time that night, Genji felt like he could actually breathe. The way his chest heaved with each inhalation was more natural than it’d been in years and it was so easy to let his mouth curl in a relived smile.

“Master… I-I’m so… I just-…” he choked. Zenyatta hushed him, and slowly sat up in the bed, Genji rushing to help him.

“It is okay now, Genji. Everything is okay.” He kept sobbing while the omnic’s arms held him close, comforting as they had always been, even as they trembled a little bit. He realized the hug wasn’t merely for his benefit.

There were so many things he wanted to say, to spill his heart’s content and confess the love he felt, the promises he wanted to make… But to be in Zenyatta’s embrace, to feel him alive next to him and hear his voice again… It was enough, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so tired, but finally I managed to finish this. I hope it came out worthy of the effort it consumed.
> 
> Also, how many times can I use the word "breath" in one document before I start hating myself?


End file.
